


Meet Me Halfway

by islandgirl_246



Series: Just You and Me [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles Stilinski, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 17:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl_246/pseuds/islandgirl_246
Summary: “Dammit, I said no, Stiles!” Peter stated. It wasn’t overly loud but his voice still struck Stiles like a physical blow with the finality of it and the vehemence behind the explosion.Stiles throat constricted and he tried desperately to swallow his disappointment and pain. He’d never seen Peter respond like this. He tried to clear his head, to think about this rationally. There had to be a reason. “I can’t simply accept no, Peter. I deserve an explanation.”Peter went even paler, if that was possible. Stiles was sure Peter's hand physically trembled this time and Stiles felt fear for a second.What was happening?





	Meet Me Halfway

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this is in keeping with what I've built before but it's kinda emotional in this one.
> 
> The timeline here is just a week or two after **He Belongs to Me**. I wanted to explore what the reveal at the Gala would have meant for their relationship. Not sure I got it the way I wanted but hope you enjoy.

“It’s just unbelievable. I mean, it’s like oil and water,” one TMZ journalist, with a slight grimace marring her good looks, said, from their customary newsroom gaggle-like setting. Her face scrunched as if she’d tasted something unpleasant. Stiles wondered if the look had been practiced in the mirror – something about it was a bit too perfectly cute for his liking. “It just boggles the mind,” Ms ‘Pretty Peaked’ added.

“Maybe it’s a publicity stunt. It could be a publicity stunt. I mean he does have a new movie coming out next year,” another postulated.

“Nah, that’s at least five months away. I don’t even think they’ve finished editing yet. There’re no trailers out, not even chatter, so chances of them starting to build the publicity now, kinda suspect,” a third joined in.

“Unless the film is crap, then not so unbelievable after all,” someone else chimed in.

A scruffy looking one decided to add some sense to the convo, “Crap? Crap, really? You do know who’s directing it. Norman doesn’t produce crap,” the dude said. But then he had to spoil it all, causing Stiles to groan when he added, “and FYI, there is chatter in certain circles that Stilinski gave the performance of a lifetime, but that’s still hush-hush. And even more than that, rumour has it he disappeared off set for a few weekends to nobody knew where.”

At this almost everyone on screen sat up, eyes gleaming. “Are you saying that even back then there was something going on between Stilinski and Hale?” someone anonymous asked.

Stiles groaned again.

“I heard that Hale was in Vancouver around the same time the crew was wrapping up shooting there.”

“Ooooo,” quite a few grinned over that detail.

Stiles snuggled further into Peter’s side, glancing up to gauge his reaction. Stiles had thought they were careful, but again at the time there wasn’t much to exactly be careful about. So far Peter hadn’t said much.

It had been a week. A week of Stiles dodging cameras; hanging up on reporters and changing his numbers repeatedly; a week of speculation about why someone with Peter’s reputation would possibly be dating someone as seemingly clean-cut as Stiles. They truly were opposites in a lot of sense, if one didn’t know them.

Stiles’ agent had even called to let him know some of his sponsors were getting a little antsy about the nature and future of this relationship. Sure it was currently giving them a shitload of publicity and if he wasn’t mistaken, there’d been an upswing in the frequency of rotation of several of his ads, both in the print and broadcast media. There was a current feeding frenzy on anything Stilinski, but some of the comments had not been kind.

Stiles’ image was taking a hit. The only sign that it bothered Peter, was in the clench of his jaw every time a new entertainment show speculated that the relationship was less than it seemed. That Stiles was somehow Peter’s new Bachelor Toy of the Gala. He took exceptional exception to any suggestion that he was anything but genuine about his feelings for Stiles, and at least one reporter had almost gotten a fist to the face for the question. The man had gotten a very pissed off Erica instead, when she’d intervened to stop Peter getting arrested for assault.

Stiles tried to take it all in stride, but it wasn’t easy. In his 10 years of acting, he’d never experienced anything like this – even with his level of fame.

So on and on it went for days, each new reveal triggering an even bigger feeding frenzy, and while they could ignore it, when it was on television and radio and everyone was discussing it, it was hard to let it go. They spent most evenings cuddled together just destressing from a day spent defending what they had; what they were.

When Peter gritted his teeth yet again at an absent comment from some airhead on TV, and it was accompanied by a growl this time, Stiles fiddled a bit with the bracelet on his arm. He’d taken to playing with it a lot lately. Somehow it seemed to calm his anxiety when he started to get flustered, plus he enjoyed the flush it brought to Peter’s face every time he saw Stiles’ fingers running across it.

“It’ll pass. You know that, right?” he asked his lover softly.

Peter’s arms tightened around him almost reflexively. “Ummm,” he grumbled, neither sounding sure nor believing.

Stiles dug his elbow into his side, tilting his head up to look at him more firmly, “Hey,” he urged, concern etched clearly in his brows. “You’re not regretting this, are you?”

Peter’s gaze suddenly flashed to him with urgency. “God no.” He leaned over and kissed Stiles’ lips wanting to erase every bit of uncertainty he saw there. He ran a hand down his cheek as he swallowed. “It’s just that we’ve been determined to keep this between us – whether it was just sex or whatever and I screwed that up. I mean I can weather the shit everyone is saying about me, I’m used to that; I just didn’t want it to touch you, not like this. I don’t want to be the thing that screws up your career, Stiles, and all I keep hearing is how bad I am for you.”

Stiles opened shocked lips to reassure, but Peter shook his head adamantly. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I believe any of that shit or care what they have to say about me, but I worry about you. I worry that this is going to get bad for you, worse than it has,” he paused. “And I worry if it’ll be worth it.”

“Hey,” Stiles pulled back from his embrace, emphatic. Not all of it had been bad. A lot of his fan base had stepped up to defend the fact that Stiles finally had somebody. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare make decisions for me. We’ve always decided what’s best for us, and that’s not going to change now because a few people, none of whom matter to either of us, want to talk shit.

“Peter, if I walk away from acting tomorrow, I’m not going to regret it. I’m not some empty-headed starlet. I do have a degree in programming, and I was valedictorian of my university class – an honour that I earned with a full acting schedule. I’m not a slave to publicity or fame. I don’t give a shit about either – only as far as those things actually allow me to have a Foundation that people care about and to help people the way it does. It took a while for me to get there, but that’s where my heart is now – on the people and causes we help.

“What’s really important to me is us. You and me. That’s what this is about – just you and me – not the million other people who don’t know us but want to have their say. They can all fuck off. As long as you’re in this, here with me, everything else is inconsequential.”

Peter’s eyes searched his seriously for a moment before the attorney nodded. “Ok.” He kissed him briefly, “OK!”

Stiles smiled and moved to cuddle into him again, but Peter stopped him, leaned down and kissed him slowly and softly. Stiles sighed into the kiss as his heart skipped and tripped and danced.

++++++

I love him.

It was on the tip of his tongue to utter it, but those were words he had never said to anyone but his family. They were the last words he’d said to his sister as she’d slipped away from him in that damn hospital bed. The last words he’d said to Cora as he’d begged her not to leave him too, not to give up, and they stuck in his throat now, fighting yet frighten to come into the light.

He really hoped Stiles wouldn’t live to regret this choice and that too was what held him back. So he’d wait and see – make sure that the actor knew what he was doing; what he’d gotten himself into before he even considered telling him. He wanted to give Stiles an out, if or when he needed it, and words had a way of binding . . . or absolutely failing when you needed them most.

So Peter did the only thing he could. He kissed him instead, and enjoyed the way Stiles sighed and melted into him – pushing away that voice in the back of his mind that said this was a cop-out.

++++++

By the time Peter sat at his desk he was pissed off.

He’d practically had to fight his way through reporters again this morning. _What the hell were they expecting anyway? Why was this a big deal?_ As far as Peter was concerned, it was a private matter.

For the umpteenth time he regretted his impulsiveness – a trait that before was never one he or anyone who knew him associated with him. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t for a second regret letting Stiles know his feelings about what they had, but he regretted the very public way he’d done it. He’d just not wanted to wait; couldn’t wait; couldn’t lose him to Sebastian’s spite; and deeply wanted to erase that blank look in his eyes, even as he stood there laughing with a group of investors and politicians.

He exhaled and it came out as a groan.

“That bad, huh?” Laura said, standing before him, one hand on the door.

When Peter looked up at her, she added, “I just came to see how you were. The past couple days have really been escalating. Do you want the firm to put out a statement? Anything?” His niece’s face contorted a bit as she awaited his response, already sure what it would be.

“This has absolutely nothing to do with the firm, Laura. This is my personal life and my personal life is not up for discussion. At least not one I’m willing to be a part of. Stiles and I have discussed this and we’ll let this madness die a natural death. They’ll get tired soon enough,” he groused.

Laura nodded even if her frown suggested she didn’t agree. “Ok. But if this continues too much more, we may have to take legal steps to keep the media away from the building. Some of the other businesses have complained about the blockage. I’ll give it until the end of the week before we have to do something or risk a backlash from our own neighbours and building management. They don’t deserve the inconvenience to business any more than you do.”

Peter inclined his head in agreement. Yes, they weren’t the only ones bearing the brunt of this. Hale & Hale occupied the 12th floor of the building. There were only three floors above them and with about 10 tenants in the entire building, they needed to do some damage control in that regard. “Don’t wait, do it now. Let’s try to return life to normal at least here if nowhere else.”

Laura nodded again, brain already working on the paper work they’d need to file by the end of the day.

Peter sat down and powered up his computer. “Have the calls stopped? For both you and Derek?”

“Well, anyone that keeps calling Derek deserves whatever he dishes out and he’s not the most pleasant to begin with, so he’s fine. Actually amused by the whole thing; and for the most part they have eased on my end. I’ve had to remind a few of what I do for a living, so word is getting out that I’m not going to pussy foot around the nuisance calls. There’s been a noticeable decline, and Erica,” Laura chuckled now, “she’s still having the time of her life.”

“I heard my name,” Peter’s assistant came up behind her. “What’s up?”

“We were just discussing the media frenzy.”

“Oh,” Erica rolled her eyes. “On that note, they’ve begun offering money for the story ever since E! reported that there might have been a long-standing relationship prior to the Gala. I tore up the messages with offers that the front desk has so far taken and told them to refuse any others. Are you still firm on not employing a PR firm to deal with this?” Erica raised brows at her two bosses.

Peter’s eyes narrowed, and his assistant raised palms in surrender. “Just thought I’d ask. Allison says they want to do it on their end, but Stiles is also refusing. I think you should have him reconsider, Peter. He is, after all, a public figure. Not sure the whole ‘stay the fuck out of my private life’ is gonna work in his context. But . . . your decision.”

“Yes, it is,” he said flatly. “Anything not Stiles-related that needs my attention? If not, you can both go.”

Erica rolled her eyes and both women retreated.

++++++

“Detective Boyd, right?” Stiles said as he claimed a seat and frowned at the man seated across the boardroom table from him.

“It’s actually only Vernon now, or just Boyd is fine, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles looked in askance from his two lawyers, to his assistant, Hayden, and then his manager, Mr. Finstock, who never made these meetings; so something was obviously up. He hoped this wasn’t another, ‘you-need-PR’ argument. His private life was not open for discussion, despite its rather public “coming out” declaration.

“I was hoping you’d remember him,” Allison said.

“What’s this about?” Stiles asked already sure he wasn’t going to like this discussion this morning. He had a lunch meeting with Norman; an afternoon call with his dad and dinner with Peter to look forward to the remainder of today.

“Mr. Boyd is your new bodyguard.”

“What?!” Stiles exploded, sitting forward. Realising he might have sounded a bit put out, he modulated his tone. “That’s not intended as any kind of offence, Mr. Boyd, but what happened to Clarence?” Stiles enquired about his former driver. A limo service, minus Clarence, had picked him up this morning and this reminded him of his mental note to enquire about it privately with Finstock.

Stiles’ team had restricted his use of taxis ever since two drivers had come forward to say they had previously dropped off one Mr. Stilinski to the penthouse apartment complex occupied by one Mr. Hale at least once each within the last year. The entertainment feeds had fed on that one for three days straight; trying to find other drivers that would admit to the same.

Jordan had been pissed enough to kick into gear with injunctions against their usual taxi service. They were now bound against declaring, for any reason other than criminal, the movements of any of their clients, especially one Mr. Stiles Stilinski. Stiles had been grateful, because if it came out that he and Peter had been hooked up for almost two years, he could imagine the public response.

It also helped that his fan base – the Stylizers – had flooded the taxi company’s social boards with unfavourable memes ever since. He’d be asked to reduce his social media handling, but after that show of support, he’d told his team his social media would stay in his control. He enjoyed engaging his fans and would continue to do so, even if a few comments were hostile. His loyals usually took care of those even before he could.

But a new bodyguard? Something else was at play here. _Where was Clarence?_

“The birthday leak it would seem was Clarence’s doing.” Stiles reared back in his chair at the blow Allison delivered.

“What?”

Two days ago the media had somehow got hold of the name of the caterer that Peter had used for a special dessert for Stiles’ birthday earlier that year. Of course there had been no name attached to the order other than Hale & Hale. Nothing to indicate whom the dessert was for, but lots of public discussion and supposition about the date of course led right back to Stiles. He’d done the customary celebration with the gang and arrived at Peter’s to find the penthouse with lowered lighting, a fire going, and wine and his favourite chocolate truffle layer cake laid out – just like Peter had had him shortly thereafter as a birthday treat.

It didn’t help that said networks and entertainment blogs had posted, with relish, the evidence – an interview early in Stiles’ career where he admitted that the chocolate truffle layer cake was his ultimate favourite. It was all very damning evidence.

But to now hear it was Clarence, whom Peter had enlisted to collect the cake, had betrayed his confidence, cut deep. He and Stiles had worked together for more than four years. He paid the man well, and while he couldn’t call him a friend, he was trusted amongst Stiles’ staff. This hurt and it showed on Stiles’ face, before he wiped all emotion clear.

“He apparently had debts we weren’t aware of . . . You must have expected this would start to happen after Peter’s . . .,” Allison flared a hand as if to say ‘stupid and public declaration of your relationship’.

Stiles scowled, and he’d have a word with Ms. Argent after this about the blame he could hear in her tone. He was every bit as much present for the public outing as Peter was; and he wouldn’t allow anyone to lay blame anywhere.

Instead of addressing this now, he turned to Boyd. “So you’re no longer with the Boston PD?”

“No, sir. I started my own private security firm about eight months ago. Just wanted a change of scenery and to be able to do my own thing. Been kind of a dream of mine to own my own business.”

“And you think you can protect me and keep your mouth shut about my private life?”

“Stiles!” Allison glared angrily.

“Yes, sir. You won’t have to worry about that with me.”

Stiles eyed him for a moment as if peering into his very soul. “Ok, then,” he nodded ignoring Allison’s exclamation and focussing directly on his new security. “Well to start, I’m Stiles. Not, Mr. Stilinski and certainly not sir. Never sir. I’ll call you, Boyd, unless you’ve a problem with that.”

When Boyd shook his head and looked to him to continue, he did. “My relationship with Peter is never for public discussion. I may ask you to drop me at his place several times a week, or somewhere else, but I will seldom ever ask you to stake out anywhere all night. I’ll arrange for you to speak with his building security, just to acquaint yourself with their own protocols, but I’m not going to have you sit in a car all night. I’m sure you have a family. When we go out to dinner, you’ll be present in whatever establishment, wherever that happens to be and you will be fed on my dime.”

Boyd went to object, but Stiles interrupted, “That, Boyd, is non-negotiable, as my employee. If you choose not to eat because you are not hungry, that’s one thing. But I don’t expect you to sit, or stand and watch us eat while you remain hungry; and I expect you to level with me when you are and aren’t. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Mr . . . Stiles.”

“Good. We’ll work out a schedule for your off-days as well. I’ll introduce you personally to the people who are closest to me and whom should have access to me, always, but I will always follow your directions where my security is concerned, unless I disagree with you and then we will discuss to find a common ground. I will never disrespect your authority in matters of security, but also understand, I take my friends, family and relationships very seriously. They are part of who I am.”

“Very well,” Boyd nodded vigorously.

“You only get one opportunity at breaking my confidence and trust, Boyd. Only one.”

The bodyguard’s face went still and inscrutable as he nodded solemnly.

“Ok. Anything I missed?” he looked to Jordan, who shook his head and looked impressed by Stiles’ clinical breakdown of his dos and don’ts. They should be used to this by now.

++++++

As Boyd drove him to the restaurant where he was to meet Norman, Stiles ran through his discussion – he refused to call it an argument – with Allison. She was evidently angry at Peter. _Why was it that his friends were always angry at Peter?_ But Stiles had been equally stringent on what she could and could not be privy to about their relationship.

“This is not how we work, Stiles,” she’s said, jaws hard, when he told her to lay off the Peter blaming. “You used to tell me everything about what you were doing and with whom so I could be prepared as your lawyer. Suddenly it’s changed.”

“Actually, I never told you everything,” Stiles clarified. “I told you what you needed to know, as my attorney to adequately defend me in case it was necessary. That being said, I’m aware you guys don’t like Peter and don’t like him not because you’ve met him, but because Scott doesn’t like him, and you know what, I’m done fighting that battle. You don’t have to like him. I like him and that’s enough for now.

“What I however will not and refuse to put up with is this idea that he’s somehow to blame for showing me and the world how he feels about me. Regardless of when I got into a serious relationship it was going to be a big deal because I’ve never done this before. For reasons which I will not get into, there’s never been someone who was all there for me, all mine, so it’s a big deal now. I get that.

“I don’t support the vitriol that comes with it towards Peter, not from my fan-base, not from the media and you damn bet not from my friends. I would love if you guys could at least try to get to know him when I officially introduce him to everyone, but you know what, at this point it really doesn’t matter. We’re all adults and we feel what we feel. But don’t expect me to sit back and accept any pokes at him because you’re my friends. I love you guys, but I don’t intend to let him give up or give him up because my friends don’t like him. We’ll all do what we have to and if it means I keep my friends and my lover apart, that’s up to you guys. Me, I’m done with this discussion because my love life is still my business.

“I’ve got nothing more to say on this. Bye Ali,” he said, and walked by placing a chaste kiss on her slack-jawed cheek before saying to Boyd, who was standing just outside the room, back to the door, “Ready, Boyd?”

“When you are, Stiles.”

“Good, let’s go.”

Little more than 20 minutes later he sat opposite Norman, as the man asked how he was doing. “Been a rough couple weeks huh?”

“I’m handling. Is there something you wanted to discuss about the film?” Stiles asked, glancing briefly at Boyd who was seated within sight of Stiles, one table over toward the back of the place, looking over the lunch menu, while his eyes continually scanned the restaurant with training that seemed a little more focussed than that of a simple former cop. He’d have to remember to ask some questions later.

“Actually, just the opposite. I think this could be it, Stiles. I’ve gone over every scrap of footage and I think we’ve got a winner on our hands,” Norman said, and his arms pimpled with goosebumps.

Stiles felt excitement warble in his belly. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, your early attention was shot to shit, but after you came back from that first ‘family emergency’ and then again after your mom’s anniversary break, Stiles, what we got out of you, wow, it gives me chills just thinking about it.”

The cabin weekend was when he’d admitted to himself that he was in love with Peter Hale.

“The emotions between you and Alisha are gold. If you don’t get a Best Actor nod across the circuit when we come out, I’ll eat my hat.”

Stiles’ jaws dropped open. “You really think so? I don’t know what to say.”

Norman smiled. “We’ve got another two months at least pulling the rest of the editing together. We’re just about half-way through, but I don’t want to rush this. So we should begin the promo tours after Christmas. I’ve already begun talking to the studio about ideas and we’d like to bring you and Alisha in to discuss. I really think you pulled a spectacular performance out of her, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets a couple nods too. We’re trying to get Sam Smith and Adele to twin on the soundtrack, so keep your fingers crossed. Sam has a song on his new upcoming album we want . . . badly and we think he can collab with Adele and that song, that song would just . . .” Norman faded into a grin.

Stiles grinned back as Norman continued to chat. And over the course of the next hour-and-a-half the two got so animated that it had Stiles leaning heavily across the table and slapping Norman on his arm when he made a comment that had Stiles howling with laughter. He came back to the ground with a crash when Boyd bound from his seat to interrupt a man with a camera trained on them.

Boyd was like a veritable wall in the man’s path, making sure he didn’t get the picture he was trying for, and indicating to the restaurant’s own security, who soon had the man out on his tail. Boyd turned, scoping out their surroundings again before returning to his seat, as guests in the restaurant returned to gawking like they had been before.

Stiles caught Boyd’s eye and nodded his thanks. Norman glanced at him sheepishly. “You ok? I guess this type of tying is becoming the norm for you lately.”

The actor shook his head sadly. “It’ll fade, eventually. I must let you know though, I don’t intend for my relationship with Peter to be a talking point on the tour. It's private and will remain that way.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure that’s communicated to everyone before the tours begin.”

Stiles was thankful to at least have one person in his corner on this.

++++++

Peter glanced at the message again and could not keep the frown off his face.

**> >>We need to talk.**

That was all the message said from Stiles. No context. No suggestion of a topic. No indication he was upset or happy, nothing but those dreaded four words. Peter sighed as he dropped his bags on a table. He’d offered to come over to Stiles’ for a change, but the actor had told him not to bother, he’d rather come to his instead.

He told himself not to pace. It wouldn’t do to worry until Stiles got there. It didn’t stop his mind from dreaming up all kinds of scenarios though. So when the key turned in the lock and Stiles closed the door behind himself, Peter was trying his best to feign nonchalance.

Stiles walked up and kissed him, dropping his jacket over the back of the sofa as he passed Peter sitting there, headed straight for the kitchen and the liquor. Peter watched as he splashed something in a glass and returned to join him on the couch.

“So, I have a request and I want you to hear me out before you turn it down, ok?”

Peter’s nose twitched, but he conceded. “Ok.”

“I want you to meet the gang, tomorrow night. Kira’s going to be in town, and all the others are here.” At Peter’s look of skepticism, he added, “Look, half the trouble they are having is that none of them have met you. I think they should.”

“And I think that’s a possibly catastrophic idea,” Peter drawled, removing his arm from around the back of the sofa where Stiles was perched and pushing himself to his feet. He’d need something stronger than the tonic water and lime he was currently having.

He’d told himself if he started drinking before Stiles got there, the worry alone would assure he was at least buzzed by the time his lover made it through the door. He forced himself to maintain a clear head.

“Stiles, you know this has the potential to go very, very wrong, don’t you.”

“Look, I know. I know you hate the meeting people thing and you don’t like the small talk mix and mingles, but this is important to me, Peter. Please! Consider it practice for when you meet dad.”

Peter paused in his task of removing the cork from the whiskey bottle. His head turned slowly to Stiles, whose fingers were running anxiously and absently across his bracelet. “Meet your father?”

“It’s got to happen sometime and we were hoping dad could come out to meet you for Thanksgiving. That’s just a week and a half away.”

Peter paled. _Thanksgiving. God, not Thanksgiving._

“Peter?”

“Stiles, I’m sorry. I can’t,” he held the tremours in by force. “Our relationship is about us, not a bunch of other people. I thought we’d agreed to this.”

The look of anxiety on Stiles’ face morphed into disbelief and then anger. “So you have no plans of meeting my family or my friends.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. This argument sounded vaguely familiar. He set the bottle down very carefully, again schooling his limbs and his face to remain blank. “I don’t do family and friends, Stiles. I thought you knew that.”

“Well I certainly didn’t think it would be off-limits to me, Peter. I figure we’d talk about it and find a common ground we could both work with. It doesn’t have to be the whole night. I’ve already told them I planned on them meeting you tomorrow. Please, Peter, and we can even just have lunch with dad and he can take an early flight back instead of spending the whole weekend.” Stiles’ voice climbed with pleading.

“Dammit, I said no, Stiles!” Peter stated. It wasn’t overly loud but his voice still struck Stiles like a physical blow with the finality of it and the vehemence behind the explosion.

Stiles throat constricted and he tried desperately to swallow his disappointment and pain. He’d never seen Peter respond like this. He tried to clear his head, to think about this rationally. There had to be a reason. “I can’t simply accept no, Peter. I deserve an explanation.”

Peter went even paler, if that was possible. Stiles was sure Peter's hand physically trembled this time and Stiles felt fear for a second. _What was happening?_

“I can’t,” Peter walked passed him toward the door, grabbing his keys from the table by said door, and out of the apartment without another word.

Stiles was stunned. Absolutely and wordlessly in shock. He shakily walked back to the sofa and dropped onto it, sight unfocussed. Something had just happened and he had no clue what. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to make sure Peter was ok. Peter had looked decided not well and just over the prospect of meeting the people Stiles cared about. He had no idea what he’d done to cause this, but he’d done something wrong.

++++++

Laura picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Laura? It’s Stiles.”

At the shaking in his voice, Laura froze. “Stiles, what’s wrong?” She couldn’t panic, not yet.

“Laura, I don’t know what I did, but I did something.”

“Stiles, where are you? What’s happened? Is Peter all right?”

“I asked Peter to meet my friends tomorrow and my dad for Thanksgiving Day and he just walked out. I don’t know what I did.”

Laura gasped, and it sounded close to a sob when she slowly exhaled and her breath caught again.

“Laura?”

She counted to 10 once, and then again. When Stiles called her name a second time, she forced herself to respond. “You . . . you didn’t do anything wrong, Stiles. . .” 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6 . . . “My mother’s accident was Thanksgiving Day.”

Stiles heard a buzzing in his head and felt instantly dizzy. “But I thought.”

“She died on Christmas Eve, but the accident happened on Thanksgiving Day. Peter hasn’t celebrated one since, and he gets raving drunk for New Year’s every year.”

“Oh, God! What have I done?”

“You didn’t do anything, Stiles. There’s no reason you would have known. It’s the date of her death most people remember. Cora died two weeks after mom in the new year. I don’t think he’s forgiven himself for throwing that party that year. They were on their way to his house when the accident happened. Because of Cora’s medical issues, it was harder for her to fight with an already compromised immune system. She just wasn’t strong enough.”

Some of this Stiles knew, especially about Cora. It didn’t stop the tear that slipped down his cheek however. The deaths were still an extremely raw point for Peter, though he held it in a lot. “I’m so sorry, Laura. I’m just so . . .”

“I’ll talk to him, Stiles. Stop worrying. I’ll talk to him.” And Laura hung up.

++++++

She took a deep breath to centre herself, then dialed. She knew he wouldn’t refuse her call. Not tonight.

“Not now, Laura.”

“Yes, now. I just spoke to Stiles. He a mess Peter. He didn’t know, and this isn’t fair to him.”

Peter sighed.

++++++

Peter unlocked his door slowly. It had taken almost two hours to calm himself. He’d shouted at Laura at points and she’d shouted right back. And to make matters worse, she’d conferenced in Derek, and then both of his remaining family had tag-teamed on his ass.

He’d walked around for a good while after, knowing he needed to return home but procrastinating on the discussion to come.

So when he eased in the door and found the lights down low, he wondered if Stiles had left. He had his phone in his hand ready to dial when he rounded the sofa and found his lover curled up almost in a fetal position in the centre of it. He was dead asleep with tear tracks down his cheeks.

Peter sat on the floor in front of him and brushed strands of hair back from his face, running a finger across one cheek as if that could remove the evidence of the pain he’d inadvertently caused the man he loved.

Stiles’ eyes fluttered open. When they focused on him, the younger man uttered a heartrending sob and threw himself into Peter’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Peter. So damn sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh. Hush now,” Peter soothed as Stiles began to cry again. “There’s nothing you have to apologise for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that and I certainly shouldn’t have left like that. I owed you an explanation, but I just couldn’t, not just then.”

“But you told me about Talia and Cora. Why didn’t you tell me it happened on Thanksgiving?”

Peter brought him close and hugged him long before he answered. “Because it was my party, Stiles. I was the reason they were on the road in the first place. Talia wanted to hold it at hers, but I told her that’s always what we did. It was time for a change of scenery.” His lips twisted into something ugly and more sad than angry. “A change of scenery. My sister died because I wanted a change of scenery.”

“No, Peter. She died because of a drunk driver. It’s on him. Not you. Do you know dad suggested us coming out for Christmas. And I said, no dad, not Christmas. Christmas’ not going to be good, not knowing that what I was about to propose was just as horrible a suggestion.”

“It wasn’t a horrible suggestion,” Peter swiped at those damn tear tracks again. “I was just unprepared. Every year gets a little easier, but it’s still hard.”

“That’s only a month away.”

“I know. And I’d love to meet your dad, but I have a request of my own.”

“Anything!”

“I want to invite Laura and Derek to come too. I can't promise it's going to be easy, but I think it may be time for the Hales to start a new tradition. Think your dad’s gonna be ok with meeting the whole clan?”

Stiles gave him a watery grin. “Of course. Plus I get to really meet them for real this time. I mean the back of an ambulance and over a mahogany board room table while my stomach plays verbal gymnastics is hardly a family greeting for either of them.”

Peter smiled, but there was still something a little sad in his eyes. “Ok.”

“Ok.” Stiles repeated and made up in his mind then and there. He’d fight to the very gates of hell for what they were building. His own friends if he had to, to ensure Peter didn’t suffer any more than he already had.

Stiles was building a family and he and his dad could use a few additional people in their lives. So too could the Hales.

**Author's Note:**

> It's ok if you don't have much to say on this one. I think I wrote this in keeping with how I was feeling today.


End file.
